


Take Me To Church

by Heavydirtys0ul, things-we-used-tc-share (Heavydirtys0ul)



Series: Wasteland, Baby! [6]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fae!Roman, M/M, OP writes smut for a living and still doesn't know how to tag it, Smut my dudes, Virgil finally does something about those fucking flowers, also hes definately a monsterfucker, literally fucking flowers, one way ticket to bone town, witch!Virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/Heavydirtys0ul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/things-we-used-tc-share
Summary: Whilst Witches have a very specific religion: Pantheism, Virgil knows he is only really worshipping Roman, not that he'd tell him that, his ego is big enough.





	Take Me To Church

_"My church offers no absolution,_

_She tells me worship in the bedroom,_

_The only Heaven I'll be sent too,_

_Is when I'm alone with you,"_

_-Take Me To Church, Hozier_

* * *

Roman is looking insidiously cheerful today, that look often means 'I am up to no good,' which to Virgil generally means he's going to have to dig him out of another grave or stop him seducing some poor lost mortal. Virgil doesn't quite cotton onto why he's so cheerful until he sees the flowers blooming under his feet and the Witch can't help but snort. Patton had spent the last few days with them, wandering in and out of their lives, and they both adore him so very much. But Roman is a particular type of person, and that's an entire part of his relationship that quite hasn't reached that stage with Patton. 

Coriander flowers, according to the books, are a symbol given from one to another, or multiple others, as an expression of sexual intent. Virgil has seen these flowers grow on and around Roman so many times now, he's flattered that even a simple kiss can make the elder feel such a way. They are currently the flowers sprouting as Roman's bare feet leave the Earth under his footsteps. The Witch is still very much convinced the other is up to no good as they reach their clearing, the grass greener here than anywhere else in the forest. Roman keeps it revitalized. 

Virgil pulls his partner into a warm kiss at the center, the sunlight brushing against their skin like a blessing. Witches have one main religion, some adopt mortal religions and others create their own, but the main religion is Pantheism, the belief that nature is a powerful God by itself. Which, by proxy, is also the worship of the Fae; Virgil would never quite tell Roman that he is the center of his religion because Roman is already convinced he is invincible, telling him he is a God would really push his ego through the roof. 

Roman's hands turn delicate in times like these, brushing underneath Virgil's shirt as he has done so many times, but each time it's always as though he has never done it before, exploring like someone reaching new land. The Witch is pulled down to the ground, lips joining with his partner's as Roman's shirt is pulled over his head, the flowers bloom in the sunlight, over his shoulders and forearms, against his chest; it's one thing to be told "I love you," and another for your lover's entire body to come alive at the mere prospect of being closer, as close as two people can physically get. 

The elder smiles up at his partner, cupping his cheeks as Virgil presses down against him, bodies pressing together. Their hands drift, helping each other out of their clothes, Virgil's shirt gets stuck on his horns and quiet giggles are passed between their lips when they meet again. Roman's legs wrap around the dark-haired man's thin hips before flipping them over. "Do you consent?" He asks softly, the way he always does. 

"To you? Forever," Roman smiles, his hands finding Virgil's pants and tugging them down, his own skirt adding to the pile as Virgil tilts his head up for a kiss.

It stopped being awkward many years ago now, Roman's home is all around him, the trees are his walls and the skies are his ceiling, he doesn't have a conventional home. So when it came to sex, his room is simply the forest floor, it's where he feels safest and most comfortable; at first, Virgil had found it uncomfortable, sure Witches are not the same as mortals when it comes to embarrassment over sex, but there is a vulnerability to the air against your skin during these moments. Now, however, it's almost second nature to him. He doesn't think he'd ever be able to do this anywhere else again. 

His eyes close the moment that Roman sinks down on him, a deep sigh on his lips, his hands rest on Roman's hips, fingertips brushing flower petals as he opens his eyes again with a smile, accepting the deep kiss that is offered. The elder's nails drag over his skin, fingertips pressing in the places he knows gets the most reaction as he pushes up into his lover, capturing every whine and moan between his teeth. The Faery bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, running his tongue over the little droplet with a possessive growl. "Mine," He whispers. 

"Mine," Virgil replies, lips and teeth trailing to the other's neck to bite and suck and _mark_ Roman. To claim him the way he has so many times. It's only symbolism for these moments, neither of them are objects to be owned, except right now, in this second. Roman's hips roll down desperately, his back arching under the fingertips that trace the empty skin between the flowers that are so definitely for Virgil (He is for Virgil, everything he is right now is for Virgil, everything he has to offer is his if he so desires it). There is something powerful, loving a man who can turn seeds into oaks and can play with the starlight as a child might with a toy car, there is power in loving a man like that, and turning him into someone so powerless with kisses and the touch of your hands. 

Virgil worships the Earth, Roman has no God except those he loves. 

Roman gasps out Virgil's name as his hand wraps around his cock, groaning as Virgil's movements become more forceful, he whimpers and whines and arches, begging (the only time he will beg for anything). Virgil moans with his head tilted back into the grass as he takes deeper and quicker breaths, lips parting but not daring to close his eyes as he curses gently. Roman's name is buried between his overwhelmed sounds, a name whispered like a desperate prayer. Roman watches him as he arches a little, pressing deep inside him as he climaxes. It takes him all of two seconds to recover before he focuses on Roman, moving his hand quickly and firmly. 

He really loves this part. The sunlight brushes against Roman's skin as his cheeks flush pink, Virgil can practically see the energy coursing through his nerves, waiting, holding, until he is pushed over the edge and the world seems to hold it's breath. His eyes screw shut, a ripple running through the grass, in its wake the flowers around them seem to grow in a protective circle around them, their roots knitting together; tied to Roman's inability to control himself in such intense moments. He releases, falling forward and resting his head on Virgil's chest as the roses brush against their skin, thankfully thornless. "Thank you," The Feary mutters, nuzzling against him, receiving a gentle kiss. 

"Thank you," The younger replies with a rough throat, a smile on his lips as he marvels at the flowers and the person who created them. Yes, Witches worship nature, and Virgil worships Roman. 


End file.
